


An Open Invitation to Tea

by FeelingFredly



Series: Better Living Through Chemistry [4]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Consensual Tea Drugging, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 02:16:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20323444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeelingFredly/pseuds/FeelingFredly
Summary: Even Hollows know that three's a crowd, but somehow Grimmjow keeps ending up at Urahara's, spending more and more time with him and Kurosaki.  Sparring in the bunker now leads to gymnastics in the bedroom, and he enjoys it--maybe a little too much--but he knows it'll end soon.  It was just an experiment.  Right?





	An Open Invitation to Tea

**Author's Note:**

> So, Grimmjow is slightly OOC in this fic, but he often is for me, so apologies to anyone who finds him hard to believe. 
> 
> The last story in my Better Living Through Chemistry series--I hope you like it.

“Harder,” Ichigo practically spat the words out, but Grimmjow ignored him, maintaining his easy pace. He’d been stroking deeply into the redhead for what seemed like forever, stopping only once to add a little more lubricant to the mix, the squelching wetness loud and lewd in the quiet room.

“Fuck Grimm,” Ichigo tried to get his knees beneath him to get some leverage, but the bigger man wasn’t having any of it. He was in control, and he intended to stay that way, and all Ichigo could do was hold on while he rocked into him as steady as a metronome. “C’mon. C'mon! Fucking shit, Grimm… fuck me harder, dammit--I’m not going to break.”

Grimmjow pushed forward a few inches and Ichigo thought maybe he’d convinced his erstwhile partner that this was supposed to be fucking not teasing, but he simply slipped a calloused palm under one of Ichigo’s knees and lifted it slightly off the bed, throwing the redhead even more off-balance before letting out a breathy laugh. “Don’t think so, Ichi.” Ichigo almost growled in frustration. Grimm sounded more like he was talking about retiling the bathroom floor than fucking, but since the only effort he was really exerting was keeping Ichigo from getting what he wanted it wasn’t a surprise.

“You’re gorgeous like this, you know?” Grimmjow trailed his fingers along Ichigo’s spine and then teased the shiny pink skin where it was stretched around his cock. “Pink and flushed and frustrated, hole stretched out, wet and slick and hungry.” He leaned forward and nipped at a freckled shoulder, sharp teeth leaving red marks that would sting tomorrow when Ichigo pressed on them remembering how he got them. And he would. He’d stand in a crowd and press on the scrapes and bruises, each one he touched making his breath come a little shallower, making his heart beat a little faster, until he would have to find a place to stroke his cock and get himself off, come everywhere, aching for Grimmjow in ways he'd never be able to put in words.

Grimmjow rolled his hips in a tight circle and Ichigo mewled as he hit that spot inside him that made his vision fade to white.

“Please.”

The hips stuttered in their movement, the rolling rhythm breaking on Grimmjow’s shock at hearing Ichigo’s plea.

“I think he liked that, Ichigo,” Kisuke’s voice came from somewhere behind them and the hip-stutter turned into a full-body shudder. 

“Sneaky bastard. Getting your kicks spying now?” Grimmjow smoothed his motions again, focusing on driving Ichigo back to the edge of crazy.

“Now, Grimmjow-san,” Kisuke’s tone was ridiculously bland, “I’ve always been a spy. Why wouldn’t I get my kicks this way?”

Ichigo could feel Grimm pulling back into himself, a damper falling over his earlier passion, the Arrancar’s caution coming to the fore now that another body had been added to the equation.

“Quit cockblocking Kisuke,” he groaned as he tried to push back into Grimmjow, the stretch and burn everything he wanted in that moment, “Grimm was being enough of a tease without you helping.”

A quiet susurrus was the only sign that he’d been heard, but after this long Ichigo could identify the sound of Kisuke taking off his clothes blindfolded. And he had. More than once.

“Don’t stop on my account, Grimm-san,” the breathy edge to his words was a neon sign that Kisuke wasn’t unmoved by the scene in front of him, “You won’t even know I’m here.”

Grimmjow snapped his hips forward faster than before and Ichigo groaned. “Can’t _not_ know you’re there, Shinigami. Fucking black hole of hidden reiatsu over there. Worse than an adjuchas hiding in the trees.”

How Grimm could notice something like an _absence_ of reiatsu in the middle of sex was beyond Ichigo, but he sucked at sensing it when he _wasn’t_ distracted, so who was he to judge.

“Well, then, just accept the fact that such a view deserves an appreciative audience, and I am appreciative.”

Grimmjow growled, but it didn’t have any real venom in it. “Surprised you want to watch since there’s no tea involved.”

Kisuke chuckled and Ichigo could hear him shift, could identify the soft sound of his legs parting and sliding against the floor, and he wished he could see.

“Kisuke?” He attempted to push himself up and twist around for a better view, but Grimmjow grabbed a fistful of hair and pressed his face forcefully into the blanket beneath him.

“What’re you looking at, Kurosaki?” Grimmjow was moving again, faster and more insistent, triggering little starbursts behind Ichigo’s eyes when he’d catch the edge of his prostate. “You were begging for a fucking before. My cock not good enough now that _Kisuke’s_ here?”

There was a bitterness in his tone that Ichigo didn’t like. 

“No,” his denial was cut short by a particularly well-timed thrust from the Arrancar, so he tried again. “Grimm, no. It isn’t like that.”

They’d fucked more than a few times after the drugged tea experiment and while the first time had been more of a fight with their dicks than a fucking, after that it had morphed into something else. Their hunger was just as strong, but the anger was—usually—not as much of a factor. And the sex? The sex was phenomenal.

“It isn’t?” The snarled question held a note of uncertainty that he’d never heard from Grimmjow before, but by then he was being fucked at a relentless pace and could only whine in response. Kisuke, though, was still articulate.

“Grimm-san,” Kisuke crawled closer and Ichigo could just see the silver-pale skin of his flank, “while I appreciate the compliment that you believe Ichigo might want something from me instead of the fine fucking you’re giving him, let me assure you—right now there’s nothing further from the truth. Look at him. Really look. See the flushed skin? The lips he can’t stop biting? Listen to the panting little breaths he sucks in with a sob when you press that beautiful cock of yours into him.” Grimmjow groaned and Ichigo thought he heard the wet slide of Kisuke’s tongue against his skin. “Trust me. He’s right where he wants to be.”

The blankets shifted and Kisuke disappeared from beside them but Ichigo felt him brush against his calves, clearly kneeling up behind Grimmjow. “And you are right where we want you to be.”

Ichigo could feel the shudder as it raced through Grimmjow’s frame, a wash of his reiatsu splashing across the room.

“Trust us, Grimm-san,” Kisuke’s voice was soft and soothing, like he was speaking to a wild animal, but Grimmjow didn’t want soothing. Ichigo keened as almost-claws dug into the meat of his hips, pulling him close enough that their three spirit energies were a lattice of black, red, and blue sparks. The bloody scent of Kisuke’s Benihime laced with Grimmjow’s desert ozone and Ichigo felt his head spin. “What do you want? We’ll give you anything you ask for. Anything you need.”

Ichigo panicked a little and scrabbled at the blankets—implying that Grimm needed _anything_ was usually a catastrophic misstep—but once again Kisuke proved he could read any situation. Grimmjow dropped forward and pressed his forehead between Ichigo’s shoulder blades, his breath a hot tattoo against the skin, as a little of the hateful tension faded from him.

“Don’t lie, Kisuke,” a dark rumble of laughter punctuated the statement and he rolled his hips in a tight circle, lighting up every nerve he struck, “you can’t give me what I want, but I’ll take what I can get.”

Then Grimmjow’s earlier teasing pace disappeared, and Ichigo whined in response as he set about _taking_.

Kisuke didn’t move away, he just added his own questing fingers and wet-mouthed kisses to the mix, and Ichigo listened as he sucked marks into Grimmjow’s skin. 

Would he keep them? Touch them? Remember how he got them? Stroke his cock to the memory of Kisuke’s mouth?

“Grimm, I’m so close.” Ichigo could feel his world unraveling, the sensations racing through him drowning out all higher brain function. “_Please_. Please fuck me.”

He didn’t mind begging, especially when Grimmjow loved hearing him do it.

“Fuck, yes.” Grimmjow replaced his forehead with one hand and pushed down hard between Ichigo’s shoulder blades, his weight making it difficult for the redhead to catch his breath. “Fucking love it when you beg. Going to make you lose your mind. I’ll make you give up more control than when Kisuke’s experimenting on you and has you stretched out on the futon, helpless and hungry. You’ll need me more than air. Want to be the drug that makes you shiver and sweat and scream.”

The words melted whatever remained of Ichigo’s thought processes; all he could do was writhe and groan.

“You like making him yours, don’t you?” Kisuke’s voice cut through some of the haze, clear but somehow too far away. “I do, too. There’s nothing like listening to the strongest man in three worlds beg you for something… anything… _everything_.”

Grimmjow snarled. “Don’t sound so cool about it, Shinigami. I like making you beg, too. Pinning you down and watching you flutter and struggle on my cock. You don’t think about your lab or your experiments or your damn princesses, then, do you? No. It’s just me. My cock. My reiatsu. My teeth in your throat and my come in your ass.”

Ichigo could see it in his mind’s eye—Grimmjow and Kisuke beside him, legs entwined, mouths biting and sucking and fingers digging into skin so hard they left bruises in the shape of _want_.

“Ye-e-esss,” Kisuke hissed his agreement and rutted up against the larger man, never shy about his own wants, “but you like it better when you’ve paid for the privilege. When I’ve bled you with my crimson princess, when I drag my fingers through your bloody split skin so that you feel it even through your hierro. You like wearing our marks as much as you like marking us.”

Another shudder rocked the Arrancar and Ichigo knew it was true. Knew just what it meant; knew just what he needed to say, but he had to say it now or he’d never get the words back.

“I don’t,” his tongue was so thick and dry from panting and he had to lick his lips and start again. “I don’t let anyone heal me… _after_…” he tried to turn and meet Grimmjow’s eyes, but a powerful rock of his pelvis sent shock waves skittering through his nervous system until Ichigo could barely lift his head enough to look at him at all. “I like that you’ve marked me too much to let someone take them away. Kisuke likes them, too, but Zangetsu hates them. Hates how I look at them. Hates what they mean to me.”

Kisuke shifted and Ichigo could feel his knobby knees pressing against the inside of his calves, spreading him a little wider as Grimmjow fucked him. Then there was a hand on his balls, and a smothered gasp from Grimm where Kisuke was touching him, too.

“You realize what he’s saying, don’t you?” Kisuke murmured. Grimmjow and Ichigo were both groaning now, the inevitable avalanche of sensation bearing down on them. “He’s saying that he’s yours, and he’s mine, but that means _you’re ours_.”

Grimmjow jerked and growled at that, pulling away suddenly, his cock sliding out of Ichigo’s well-fucked ass with an obscene trickle of lubricant. He pivoted into Kisuke’s space, staring down at him, their chests almost touching, his eyes wide and wild and his fist wrapped around his cock like a challenge.

“Fuck you, Shinigami, I know better than to buy into that bullshit. I’m just a lab rat to you two, lucky to fuck and be fucked, so just shut up and do it already.”

Grimmjow pumped his hand up and down his cock, gathering up a string of viscous precome from the dark red head and smearing it down his length. The foreskin pulled back to expose the vein that ran under the widest part of it, and when Ichigo finally managed to get his legs to move again, all he wanted was to climb the man like a tree and shove that glorious thing back inside him—_now_—but they had to do something about this other problem first.

“Let me get this straight,” he snarked at the Arrancar. “You’re pissed at us because you think you’re a lab rat?” Ichigo pushed himself up onto shaky knees. “I don’t know whether to laugh at you or punch you for saying it like it’s a bad thing. If anyone here is a lab rat, it’s me. But, why do you think I do it? Why do I drink Kisuke’s mystery teas?” He raised an eyebrow, but the blue-haired bastard wasn’t talking. “You think I get off on being drugged? Being helpless? No, Grimm, I get off on _trusting and being trusted_. On being able to do something for someone I care about. For being included in something that’s important to him. Sure, the mad scientist bit is hard to understand sometimes, but it’s _Kisuke_. That’s just who he is, just like _you_ are who you are.” He looked up into electric blue eyes and thought he could get lost there _so_ easily if Grimmjow would just let him. “We didn’t include you because you didn’t matter, you idiot,” he laid his calloused palm on Grimmjow’s chest, pressing against the drumbeat of the heart there, “we included you because you _did_.”

Throughout his little speech Kisuke hadn’t shied away from Grimmjow’s threatening posture; instead, he leaned in and took a fold of skin from just above his nipple between his teeth. He sucked on it and rolled it, eyes closed in pleasure, and when he finally released his hold there was a perfect oval bruised into the smooth surface. His gray eyes were serious as they rested on the Arrancar.

“Do you think I would have allowed anyone else—_anyone, Grimm-san?_ —to take part in that first experimental evening together? No.” He shook his head. “No one but you.”

By this time Grimmjow looked a little like a deer caught in headlights, afraid to move because one wrong step could lead to his downfall, and Ichigo almost felt bad for him. Almost.

He knee-walked forward and added his hand to where Grimmjow still defiantly held his cock, and squeezed tightly, smirking when he gasped and shuddered at the punishing grip, and then pushing Grimmjow back onto his heels on the futon.

Kisuke stretched out behind him, wrapping him in long arms and legs, and Ichigo spread himself across his lap, pinning him in place. Grimmjow’s muscular thighs flexed and trembled beneath him, and Ichigo could feel the heat melting into his blood, every shift and shiver echoing through his bones.

“So, now you know that we want you for more than just an occasional thing,” he said, gently trailing his fingers along Grimmjow’s sides. “Are you willing to give it a shot?”

Ichigo forced himself to breathe, counting in his head, forcing himself to patience while Grimmjow had his existential crisis.

“You’re sure about this?” He asked finally, and Ichigo nodded, tracing his index finger along the edge of his jaw. He leaned in slowly and when he pressed their lips together, soft and warm and sweeter than he could ever remember them tasting, he couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped him as he realized the other man wasn’t running away.

“Yeah Grimm, I’m sure. I’ve wanted this for a while.” He pulled back and looked over Grimmjow’s shoulder, his silent question to Kisuke clear in his gaze. Kisuke scooted closer and dug the point of his chin into the top of Grimmjow’s shoulder and then nipped at his earlobe, pulling a surprised grunt from him.

“Plus, I’ve always had a soft spot for cats.” The blond gave Ichigo a smug look and made a rumbling, purring noise in his chest that caused Grimmjow’s eyes to snap open wide as he was wracked with a full-body shiver. “I’ve learned a lot about them from Yoruichi over the years, but I think it would be nice to finally have one of my own.”

The purring noise stopped but Kisuke replaced it with long, languorous strokes along Grimmjow’s skin, punctuated by little nipping kisses on his jawline and the nape of his neck, and the overgrown panther stretched into the attention, soaking up the physical affection in a way that completely surprised Ichigo.

Grimmjow was loosening up, his initial panic leaching away as he allowed their attentions, but he was still Grimmjow.

“Don’t think this means I’m housebroken,” he said, gripping Ichigo’s hips and pulling their bodies even more tightly together, their cocks beginning to harden again where they were trapped between them. He dropped a punishing kiss on Ichigo’s lips, his head held tightly in place by a fist in his hair. “We may be doing this, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to listen to you all the time. Hell, I’m not even going to _like_ you all the time.”

Ichigo kissed him back just as hard, teeth nipping at his bottom lip until they almost brought blood, earning him a half-hearted snarl from the Arrancar before he leaned over his shoulder and gave Kisuke a filthy open-mouthed kiss, the sounds of it sending goosebumps racing along Grimmjow’s neck and arm as they moaned and breathed across his ear.

“Don’t have to always like us,” Ichigo said finally, pulling back so he could press his lips against the wildly beating pulse at the base of Grimmjow’s throat. “You just have to trust us. The rest will work itself out.”

Grimm nodded once, his body still fiercely controlled, but his eyes were blown almost black, and his irises had been reduced to the tiniest rings of blue as the predator in him finally seemed ready to calm down and accept the change into his life.

“Fuck it,” he said finally, holding one of Kisuke’s wandering hands against his abdomen and pressing another hungry kiss into Ichigo’s mouth. “At least it won’t ever be boring.”

At that, Kisuke spoke up, the thoughtful tone in his voice one Ichigo recognized as rarely boding well for anyone around. “You’re right, Grimm-san, I don’t think boredom will be a problem.” He leaned over and with great concentration traced a line from the hinge of Grimmjow’s jaw to his collarbone with the tip of his tongue before finishing his thought. “For one thing, the sex is amazing, and for another… there’s always tea.”

In the back of his mind, Zangetsu laughed, and Ichigo couldn’t blame him.


End file.
